A Hero with a Face
by IWantMaStix
Summary: Just a little metaphorical two-shot in response to Santana's closet issues.  References "Born This Way."  Rated T for language only.
1. It's Not Strong to Be Stupid

**Bruce Wayne**: _"He locked up half of the city's criminals, and he did it without wearing a mask. Gotham needs a hero with a face."_

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><p>Batman was the greatest superhero ever. That's what I decided after me and Brittany spent a summer Saturday afternoon seeing "The Dark Knight." Well, <em>I<em> saw it. Brittany just covered her eyes half of the time.

"This is fucking awesome," I whispered into her ear, my tan elbow nudging hers off of the armrest in excitement. "Aren't you glad I snuck us in?"

She made a little whimpering noise that sounded kind of similar to the one she made whenever I kissed her. Then I felt fucking weird, you know, associating the Joker's murder sprees with Brittany's tongue in my mouth. But I bit my lip and bore through it.

When the movie was over, Brittany gave me her best attempt at a dirty look and hissed, "I wish I had an eraser for my brain so I could erase this movie from it. I hate you."

"No, you don't. I'm awesome," I countered, flicking my eyebrow up and grinning. "And I've also come to the conclusion that Batman is the greatest superhero ever."

"Why?" she asked as we took the long way home.

"'Cuz he's all dark and damaged and vengeful. His only real powers are his intelligence and his anger at the world. That's what a superhero should be. None of that 'faster than a speeding bullet' crap."

I turned my head to examine why Brittany wasn't bowing down to my incredible conjectures regarding the world of superheroes. She had popped a finger in her mouth and was chewing on the cuticle.

"Quit it," I said, swatting at her hand.

"I think superpowers are cool," she finally answered.

"Whatever..."

I blew it off. Clearly she couldn't wrap her head around the amazingness that was inside of my own. We walked through the woods near her house in silence, my feet shuffling over grass and then gravel.

"What's this?" I asked her, stopping in front of some huge canyon full of pebbles and sand.

"I don't know," Brittany muttered. "It just showed up here a few days ago. I thought maybe a really big UFO crashed here or something."

I gave her my patented "Oh, Brittany" sigh that was a combination of amusement, love and confusion over how her brain worked. Not that I'd ever tell her that I liked it.

"It's a rock quarry," I told her.

"Oh."

I walked out to its edge, peering into the vastness. It must have been like 20 feet wide and 100 feet deep!

_No, not really._

Brittany grabbed my arm, my T-shirt rising at the side as she tugged me backwards. "Don't," she begged.

"Don't what?"

"You're gonna jump."

I scoffed at her, laughing. "Oh, please. No, I'm not."

Well, that was a fucking lie. The truth was, I just thought it'd be exciting, but now it seemed there was a much bigger opportunity at work here.

"Okay, Brittany," I started. "I'm gonna show you something."

"What?" she said, her blue eyes widening into blue globes.

"Regular people can be superheroes too. Just like Batman. You don't need to be superfast or invincible or have the ability to fly or whatever. You just have to be strong on the inside. Watch me." I walked back to the edge of the quarry, a clutch of pebbles shimmering under my sneaker then shooting downward.

"Please don't, Santana!" Brittany cried out, squeezing my hand in her sweaty fingers. "It's not strong to be stupid."

But, before I could think up some witty reply to her statement, I'd taken a flying leap into the belly of the rock quarry.

I only felt like Batman for a second though. That's all there was of that- one fucking second- soaring through the dusty, humid air. Then the whole stunt turned into something entirely different.

I heard Brittany scream and start to cry. I heard my legs make a weird BOOM noise, and then the sound of gravel filled up my head like it was being shoveled inside of it. My feet landed in a stab at the base of the quarry, a burn climbing all the way up them and into my legs, striking my chest. I closed my eyes and waited for God to take me. Or Satan. You know, whoever was really in charge.

It wound up being Brittany. "Santana!" she cried. "Santana, are you dead?"

My lashes fluttered open slowly, two baby mouths that weren't sure that they still wanted to keep eating. I looked down at my body. It was covered in dirt and scratches, crosshatched squares of blood gleaming in the evening sun.

"Santana?" Brittany repeated. "Oh, my God, you're dead! But I love you! You can't be dead yet!"

"I'm not dead," I shouted. "You can see that my eyes are open, can't you?"

"Yeah."

"So I'm not dead then."

I probably should have been. I stood up, dusting a brown cloud from my ass. Man, did it it fucking hurt. It felt like someone had stuck a knife up there. It hurt to walk too, but no way in hell I was gonna look like a total Lima loser in front of Brittany. Plus I still had that point to make.

"Idiot," I breathed to myself.

It took a while, but somehow I managed to dig my throbbing toes into the corner of the quarry and drag myself up and out. When I collapsed on the ground in a puddle of blood, dust and gasping, Brittany looked down at me and wiped the tears from her eyes. Jesus, she was never subtle.

"I hate you," she choked out.

I crawled to my feet on my own, brushing a bunch of bloody gravel off of my shirt. "See," I said. "I was right." I gave her a smile that made my chest feel like it was suddenly a balloon and was gonna get punctured. "I'm just as strong as Batman."

"It's not strong to be stupid," she told me one more time.

As if I'd forgotten.

Brittany took my arm. I tried really really fucking hard not to wince, but all of the pain I was holding inside made my eyes start to water. I looked off into the woods as she carried me back to her house.


	2. It's Not Stupid to Be Strong

She hated me. She hated me so much and she was totally gonna say it again, just like when were 13.

I wasn't gonna look at that fucking shirt she'd made for me that read "LEBANESE." I wasn't gonna say "Thank you." It was better to just put on my bitch face and make it easier for her hate to bleed on through.

"Don't even think about telling anyone," I said, turning my back on her to open my locker.

"Why not? You're like the most awesomest girl at this school. Why would you try to hide any of that?"

"I'm dating Karofsky now," I said, the taste of his name in my mouth making my fingers go all shaky.

"It's gross," Brittany replied.

And I really believed, just for a second, that the same bitter taste was all over _her_ tongue too.

"You don't get a say in who I date anymore," I shot back.

She said a bunch of crap about me being gay that I didn't feel like hearing, so I just played a Nicki Minaj song in my head until I figured I had to step in again.

"I said I love you."

_I fucking love you, Brittany. How many times do I have to say it? What else do I have to prove?_

"You didn't say I love you back." I jabbed it into her like the point of a pencil.

"I do love you," she told me harshly. "Clearly you don't love you as much as I do, or you'd put this shirt on and you would dance with me."

Brittany thrust it at me, swirling out of the hallway in her own "I'M WITH STOOPID" T-shirt and a shiny blue nylon jacket.

"Dammit," I muttered, standing there alone.

I eyed the black letters buried in my fist. L-E-B-A-N-E-S-E. Thank God they didn't say what they really meant. I shoved the T-shirt into my backpack and walked home, taking the opposite way that Brittany had.

"It's not stupid to be strong," she'd told me the other week before I'd gotten that slushee facial from Karofsky. "You can do it. Just tell Glee Club."

"No fucking way," I said.

We were at our lockers where everyone could see us, where everyone could hear us. I was crazy enough the first time around, confessing all that shit to her about love and feelings and blah blah blah. It certainly wasn't gonna happen again.

"It's not stupid," she repeated.

"It's incredibly stupid, Brit. Look at me. Are you forgetting who I am, Santana Lopez, the undisputed top bitch at this school? I'm not...like _that_. So just drop it."

"Remember when you made me go see that scary Heath Ledger movie with you?" she asked, popping open the door of her locker and extracting two textbooks. "The summer before we started here?"

"Yeah. So?"

"You told me that regular people can be superheroes."

"Yeah," I uttered. "And I wound up with a fractured ankle and a bunch of scars. Now _that_ was stupid. You said so yourself. And this would be equally retarded."

"You could be like Batman though," Brittany said, carefully closing the locker door. "You're kind of like him, with your vicious words and your evil eye. Those could be like powers maybe." She turned to smile at me.

"Maybe," I said. I had to agree with her. And I had to smile back.

And then Dave Karofsky had something to do too, ruining the moment by icing my face a lovely shade of cherry red.

So what the hell was I doing here now with him, after school in the auditorium, hiding out in the back while everyone else got on stage and sang about accepting themselves? I kept my eyes on Brittany the whole time. She looked so happy. She looked so happy in that damn T-shirt.

I'd put mine on for her anyway, the stupid LEBANESE shirt that was supposed to say LESBIAN. I was wearing my one weakness right on my chest for all of the bad guys to notice. How stupid was I? I wasn't strong, that was for sure.

Could Brittany see me from where she was, lit up on the stage and dancing into a flame? I looked down and folded my arms across the black letters. Dave's breathing was steady beside mine. He had his letterman jacket on and no weakness underneath.

"You wore it?" he asked.

But it wasn't really a question.

"It's my superhero outfit," I said softly. "I'm giving it a test run, for when I get you back for slusheeing me later. When you least expect it, Karofsky. When you least expect it."

He made a face that was all stone and I rubbed at the quarry scar on my elbow. "I don't get it," he said.

"Me neither," I muttered. "Never mind."

It felt so weird to be sitting there, half-masked and half-caped, like some part of me could take off flying at any moment while the other would have to stay behind in the shadows. How strong did I have to be to separate myself? How stupid?

I ducked my chin into the T-shirt and stood up.

"Later, Karofsky," I said sharply.

And then I walked away from Brittany, her little light on stage, calling out for me through the darkness. I slipped back into my coat and back into the blackened hallways.


End file.
